Truth or Dare
by fagur fiskur
Summary: Dean and Castiel use a game of truth or dare as a chance to humiliate each other. College AU, Dean/Castiel


**A/N:** 30 (more) cheesy tropes: #21 Truth or dare

go see my tumblr for drabbles too short to post here (link on my author's page) and maybe bits of upcoming fic

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><p><strong>Truth or Dare<strong>

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><p>As if it weren't bad enough that Meg was taking him to a party, Dean Winchester had to be there too.<p>

They hadn't spoken in months but The Incident was still fresh in Castiel's mind, and the mere sight of Dean had his cheeks heating with embarrassment and anger. Fortunately, before Dean could spot him, Meg grabbed his arm and dragged him into the kitchen.

"I know what you're thinking, Clarence," she said, "and I'm not gonna let you take off because of that asshole. Let's get you liquored up, you're here to enjoy yourself."

"I'm here because you made me come," Castiel grumbled, but he gratefully accepted the red solo cup Meg handed him and downed third of it in one gulp. If he was going to spend any amount of time in the same house as Dean, he could use some liquid courage.

Meg laughed. "Good boy."

They stayed in the kitchen for a while, Meg refilling Castiel's cup every so often, and it didn't take long for a pleasant buzz to set in. This wasn't so bad. Balthazar and Anna were both there, as well as Samandriel, who as far as Castiel could tell had been clinging to the same half-empty cup of beer all night.

Yeah. This was nice, if only Castiel could ignore the uncomfortable gnawing at his gut at the thought of Dean being in the next room. Every so often, he could hear Dean laugh. Infuriatingly enough, the sound still made Castiel's heart race. Apparently learning that Dean was a loathsome person was not enough to completely eradicate Castiel's feelings for him.

The only solution to his problems was obviously to keep drinking, which Castiel did. By the time someone loudly suggested they play truth or dare, he'd had enough to drink so that the idea didn't sound half-bad.

That opinion changes quickly when they got into the living room and Castiel saw that Dean Winchester was among those who were participating. Before Castiel could run, however, Dean had spotted him. Their eyes locked and for just that one moment, Castiel completely forgot why he hated Dean in the first place. Then the memories and humiliation came rushing back.

But he wasn't going to give Dean the satisfaction of seeing him back down, though, so he sat down on the floor next to Meg. If anyone was going to leave, it should be Dean.

Charlie Bradbury went first, daring Samandriel to put lipstick on Anna without using his hands. Samandriel then dared Jo Harvelle to call her mother's bar and ask for I.P. Freely, and Jo in turn dared Meg to take a shot out of Ruby's bellybutton. When Meg smirked and asked Castiel, "truth or dare", Castiel knew he had to pick dare.

"I dare you to..." Meg tapped her chin, pretending to think, "make out with me, for no less than thirty seconds."

"Oh, come on," Anna groaned. "That's not a dare, that's a line."

Meg raised an eyebrow. "No rules against it."

Then she grabbed Castiel by the collar, tugging him close.

"What are you doing?" Castiel whispered. He felt dizzy being this close to Meg, smelling the alcohol she had just ingested on her breath.

"Just trying to make you look good," Meg answered, eyes pointedly darting to her left, right where Dean was sitting.

Castiel wanted to argue that there was no point in trying to make him look good in Dean's eyes, Dean would never see him that way and Castiel didn't want him to anymore anyway, but then Meg was already kissing him.

It wasn't the first time they'd kissed but it was the first time in front of an audience, and Castiel was keenly aware of that. Still, he closed his eyes and put his hand on the back of her neck, trying to make it look good. Meg was a good kisser, he could give her that much, but it felt like eternity before someone shouted for them to break apart.

Castiel pulled back, relieved, and automatically his eyes sought Dean's. His expression was heavy but it was impossible to tell if he was jealous or angry or just tired from drinking. He scoffed when he caught Castiel looking, and that sealed it.

"Dean," Castiel said before he could stop himself, "truth or dare?"

If Dean was surprised at being addressed, he didn't show it. "Dare."

After a brief moment of panic when nothing came to mind, Castiel recalled the last time he had played this game. He'd been sixteen and he, Gabriel and Luke had fled to the basement after an unbearably boring and formal Thanksgiving dinner. Castiel had only played for one round, but it still stuck in his memory.

"Hold on," he told Dean, stumbling to his feet and heading for the kitchen.

It took some rummaging but finally Castiel found a bottle of tequila someone had left under the sink, a shot glass that was only semi-dirty and a bottle of Tabasco sauce in the fridge. He mixed the sauce and tequila in the glass, adding some black pepper he'd found in the pantry on top for good measure. It was only as he started putting the ingredients away that doubt started nagging at him. This seemed unnecessarily cruel. Sure, Dean had hurt him, but that didn't mean that Castiel needed to sink to his level.

But when he came back into the living room, Dean was leaning into Jo Harvelle, laughing at something she'd whispered in his ear, and all of Castiel's doubt evaporated.

"Here," he said, handing the shot glass to Dean. "Drink this. Don't smell it, just drink."

Dean accepted the glass, and Castiel found himself maliciously enjoying the doubt in his expression. "This isn't poison, is it?"

"It won't kill you," Castiel said, which he knew was hardly reassuring.

But all Dean did was shoot him a glare and then down the shot in one quick sip. He nearly immediately started coughing, eyes tearing up and face turning an alarming shade of red. "_What the hell was that_?"

Castiel shrugged. "Just some things I found lying around in the kitchen."

"Whose kitchen?" Dean coughed. "_Satan's_?"

"Have some beer," Charlie Bradbury said, handing Dean her cup. "It should make your mouth feel less like literal hell."

She glared at Castiel during those last few words, and Castiel had to fight the urge to flinch. He wasn't the bad guy here, he argued with himself. Dean had brought this on himself by being an asshole.

After Dean had downed most of Charlie's beer, he wiped his mouth and said, "Fine, if that's how you wanna play it. Cas, truth or dare?"

The way he said it, it sounded like a challenge. Well, Castiel wasn't going to back down. If Dean wanted a fight, he'd give him one.

"Dare."

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><p>Half an hour later, Castiel had run three circles around the house in a jockstrap, Dean had completely butchered 'Imaginary Lover', Castiel had shoved a handful of ice cubes down his pants, Dean had exchanged clothes with Meg (including, she'd reassured Castiel, underwear), and Castiel had failed to balance a carton of milk on his head and subsequently gotten drenched.<p>

"Enough," Anna finally cut in. "If you guys don't mind, I'm gonna cut in. Dean, Castiel, I dare you to go somewhere private and talk until you sort your shit out."

"Hear, hear," Charlie Bradbury said.

"You can't do that," Dean protested.

Anna snorted. "Sure I can. Now, you guys can either go pick a place yourselves, or we'll shove you into the hallway closet and lock the door."

Dean and Castiel exchanged weary glances and then reluctantly got up. They ended up picking the bathroom, since Castiel was still dripping wet. He got into the bathtub, briefly debating just pulling back the shower curtain and cutting himself off from Dean. But avoidance was probably pointless by now.

As soon as the doors had closed, Dean turned to Castiel. "What the hell is your problem?"

Castiel blinked. He could barely believe the audacity. "My problem? Do you really need to ask that?"

"The fuck is that supposed to mean?"

And it really wasn't fair that even with his blood boiling with anger, Castiel still couldn't help but notice that Meg's little black dress looked surprisingly good on Dean. "How can you pretend you don't know what you did wrong?"

"Because I _don't_."

"Really?" Castiel huffed. "You wrote me a love letter as a joke."

Even just saying the words made Castiel feel humiliated. He could still remember the elation he'd felt at reading the letter, and the way it had stung to have Dean tell him that he'd meant it as a joke. What kind of a person did that to a friend?

"Are you serious?" Dean asked. "Is that why you stopped talking to me? You didn't even like me that way!"

Castiel bit his tongue before he could say something stupid like, 'but I did'. "It was a cruel thing to do," he said instead. "You shouldn't send someone a fake love letter."

"The stupid letter wasn't fake!"

Castiel's heart leapt into his throat, and suddenly he couldn't breathe. He had to have heard wrong. He had to have misunderstood. "What?"

"I..." Dean had gone pale. "Nothing."

"No," Castiel said, "that was not nothing. What did you mean?"

"Nothing," Dean repeated through clenched teeth. "Just forget it, okay?"

Forgetting it was the last thing Castiel wanted to do. "Is this another joke?"

Dean turned around, his back to Castiel, and for one moment it seemed like he might storm out. But then he said, "It was never a fucking joke. I was lying when I told you it was. I just didn't want to look pathetic."

"Why would that letter make you look pathetic?"

Dean laughed. Castiel had heard that laughter before; it was usually followed by a self-depreciating comment. Castiel hated that laughter. "I don't know, maybe because it was? You'd already been showing it to people and laughing about it, so obviously you didn't feel the same way."

Castiel was lost. "I never showed that letter to anyone."

"Sure," Dean snorted. "So Meg and Balthazar never made fun of me for it."

"I don't..." Castiel trailed off. It wouldn't be the first time Meg had gone through his bag without him knowing, would it?

But it couldn't really be that simple, could it? Just a misunderstanding; no Dean being an asshole and playing with his emotions for the hell of it, just a case of miscommunication. It seemed too good to be true.

"I never showed that letter to anyone," he repeated, as slow and clear as his inebriation allowed. He needed Dean to understand. It was about time they both did. "I didn't even know they'd read it."

Finally, Dean turned around, facing him again. "You're fucking with me."

"I'm not," Castiel promised.

Dean looked him over, and Castiel was suddenly aware of the changed atmosphere. There was still tension between them but it was something different now. "So, if I hadn't told you that letter was fake..."

Castiel swallowed. He could do this. Dean had already admitted his emotions, Castiel could surely do the same. "I would have told you that your feelings were reciprocated."

There was a long, terrifying moment of stillness, and then Dean was climbing into the bathtub with him, pushing Castiel against the wall and kissing him. Heat ignited in Castiel's gut and he pulled desperately for Dean, wanting him closer, _needing_ him closer. Their tongues tangled, tasting like milk and Tabasco sauce, and then they were breaking apart because neither could hold back their laughter.

"You look ridiculous," Dean snorted, burying his nose in Castiel's neck.

"You look very attractive," Castiel said truthfully.

Dean started laughing again, the breath hitting Castiel's neck and causing him to squirm. "Hang on, we need to get you cleaned up."

He pulled away and reached for the shower handle. Castiel yelped as a stream of ice cold water hit him.

"It'll warm up," Dean promised, but then the cold didn't matter so much because they were kissing again.

They probably looked ridiculous: soaking wet and fully clothed, Castiel dripping with milk and Dean in a small black and frankly unfairly well-fitting dress. But Castiel wouldn't have it any other way.


End file.
